


Buttons and Paintbrushes

by theinvisibledude



Category: The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: Coraline AU, Eye Trauma, M/M, at least for now, but you know how this goes, dorian/basil is onesided, in chapter 8, originally i was going to just post this all on one thing, sorry - Freeform, warnings may change as it goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23210545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisibledude/pseuds/theinvisibledude
Summary: Basil Hallward moves into a new flat, only to find there is a door to another world in it. A world where the man he loves will love him back. A world where nothing could go wrong. A world made of dreams. Or so he thought. Soon, he learns how quickly the dream will become a nightmare.Coraline AU
Relationships: Dorian Gray/Basil Hallward
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I haven't read the book of Coraline, so this will mostly be based off of the movie! There's no beta reader, so any typos is all on me.

The Beldam sighed, tapping it's needle-like claws on it's chin. It was bored. And stuck. No one had moved into the flat since the last residents, a doctor and a lawyer. Ever since that doctor disappeared, the lawyer moved out and it hasn't seen or heard of the lawyer since. The flat seemed to be wasting away, the Beldam with it. A new resident needed to move in, and fast. Before it shriveled up and died.

Moving around in the Other World wasn't something it usually did, unless it was trying to lure someone in. Out of the main sitting room of the flat's window was the garden. The garden was where the last victim finally gave in. It had taken the doctor  _ so long _ to finally agree, to finally give up, to have buttons sewn onto his eyes. Perhaps, the new victim would have a weaker temperament and fall faster. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Basil Hallward set his trunk down on the bench at the foot of his bed and sighed deeply. He didn't want to move but the new flat was closer to his art studio and more affordable. Which puzzled Basil, due to the fact that the new flat was bigger than his previous one. Perhaps if he spoke to the landlord, he could learn why. 

Nevertheless, Basil was moving. The previous owners left most of their belongings and the landlord hadn't sold them, so Basil had to decide what he wanted to keep and what he would have to sell. It was going to be a long day, he could already tell, as he walked over to the nearby window and looked out at the early morning light. Perhaps after all his things were either moved or sold, he could dine with Lord Henry. 

Yet the day passed, and Basil moved and sold, and moved and sold, and finally settled into his new flat. While he brought over most of his furniture from his old flat, there was a large, ornate mirror in the hallway in the new flat that Basil tried to have moved and it didn't budge. How odd. Must be stuck on something. He left the mirror there and kept working. He'll deal with it later. 

Dusk finally had settled on London and Basil finally had settled in the flat. He had sat down in the sitting room, heaving a heavy sigh of relief when his butler approached him with a note from Lady Agatha, inviting him to a party. What could be the harm in that. He requested a carriage to be summoned as he moved to his bedroom to get ready. 

He dressed in his usual evening clothes, tying his long, dark hair back with a simple, red hair clip his mother had given him before he moved to London. Basil stepped out into the hallway, stopping in front of the long, standing mirror he tried to get rid out hours earlier. He truly looked nothing special, but then again, he did not want to stand out. His dark tuxedo looked like everyone else's. The only things that really made him look like  _ himself _ and not anyone else, was his long hair and the clip that was holding the hair back. Basil turned his head, slightly, his eye catching the red standing out against his hair. The only real color in his outfit. Oh how he longed to wear his old clothes. His  _ real _ clothes. He felt like a stranger.

Before he could linger at the mirror any longer, his butler appeared behind him and told him the carriage was ready. Basil turned and took the long, sweeping jacket from the butler, walking out of the flat and buttoning it up. The brisk evening didn’t bother him as he climbed into the carriage and was led across London to the party.

Which was dreadfully boring. He hated going to parties like this. He felt uncomfortable. There were too many stuffy people there, who only wanted to talk to Basil because they wanted to see his art, or to have him draw or paint him, or ask him what it was like to be an artist.

Basil was just about to leave when he looked across the room and his heart stopped. There, talking to Lady Agatha, was the most beautiful man Basil has ever laid eyes on. Curly blonde hair, a boyish demeanor and how lively he looked while talking. Everything about this man screamed perfection and Basil couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The man, the image of perfection, must have felt someone staring, since he looked over at Basil. He then smiled and winked before returning to his conversation.  _ Goddammit. _

“I have to get out of here,” Basil muttered, making his way through the party, towards the exit. He was just about to leave when Lady Agatha’s shrill voice called out to him.

“Oh Mr. Hallward!” She called, stopping Basil in his tracks. 

_ No, no, no. _

“Do come here! I would love to speak to you!”

He sighed, glancing longingly at the door, before turning around and walking over to Lady Agatha and the man. 

“How can I help you, Lady Agatha?” He asked with a smile as he tried not to stare or even look at the stranger.

“I would like to introduce you to Dorian Gray,” she answered, gesturing to the man. “Dorian Gray, meet Basil Hallward. He is my  _ favorite _ artist.”

“Lovely to meet you, Mr. Hallward. You’re an artist?” 

Oh his voice. Like the sound of angels singing. How perfect.

“Yes, I am an artist! I do paintings of landscapes, mostly. I haven’t practiced painting many people,” Basil managed, thankful he didn’t trip over his own tongue. How embarrassing that would be. 

“Mr. Gray here is performing a piano duet with me in a couple weeks, to help raise money for my new charity. Aren’t you, Mr. Gray?”

Dorian looked at Basil with his soft, pale blue eyes, and smiled. “I believe I am. Although I am not sure why. You could raise enough money on your own, you don’t need my help.”

Basil shook his head, trying not to squirm under Dorian’s gaze.

“Was that all you needed from me, Lady Agatha?” Basil asked.

“Yes, yes! Goodbye, Mr. Hallward!”

“Have a lovely evening, Lady Agatha. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Gray.”

Before anyone else could get another word in, Basil walked away from the pair and out of the party. It wasn’t too far of a walk to his flat, and the cooler evening air felt good compared to how stuffy it felt in there, so Basil decided to walk home.

All he could think about during his walk home was Dorian. How lovely he looked, how much Basil wanted to draw him. Perhaps even paint him. Yes, that would be nice. In the morning, he would find Dorian Gray and ask to draw him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian visits Basil at his house

The next morning, Basil was ready to reach out to Lady Agatha about how to contact Dorian Gray. Although she usually took a couple days to write letters back, he would prefer to wait rather than to talk to her in person. She’s a lovely person, but Basil had other things to do.

As he made his way down the stairs and into the dining room, he was delighted to find a letter from Dorian Gray, written in violet ink, sitting at his spot. How odd. Basil never personally knew anyone who wrote in violet ink, but he had heard it was the latest craze a few months ago. Basil sat down, ignoring his breakfast, and opened the letter.

_ Dear Mr. Hallward, _

_ Forgive me for the sudden letter, I had asked Lady Agatha if there was an art studio of yours I could visit and instead she told me your address. I was very pleased to make your acquaintance last night and I do hope we can become good friends. Would you permit me to stop by later on and you could show me some of your art? I have included my calling card, please write back to me soon. _

_ Dorian Gray _

Basil was absolutely giddy. He reread the letter two more times, wishing that Dorian had written more but knowing he was possibly going to see him later. He wanted to write back but the growling of his stomach reminded him how hungry he was. 

Focusing on breakfast proved to be a difficult task. Especially when he couldn’t take his eyes off the letter. The neat handwriting. How the purple-colored ink stood out against the paper. Basil reached out and traced his fingers over the words, imagining Dorian taking the time to write this letter, for Basil. That very thought made his heart pound and his face flush. 

Leaving most of his breakfast at the table, Basil stood up, taking Dorian’s letter with him, and went back up to his room to write Dorian back. Yet the moment he sat down at his desk, he wasn’t sure what to say. Any words he had been formulating over that hasty breakfast disappeared. Basil read the note again, although he is beginning to suspect that he has it memorized by this point, and scribbled out a hasty note.

_ Mr. Gray, _

_ I would love to show you my art, please stop by sometime this afternoon. Perhaps you could stay for tea?  _

_ Basil Hallward _

He read over his note, frowning to himself at how short it was. Maybe Dorian will think Basil wasn’t interested and won’t show up? Basil bit his bottom lip, scribbled an extra line about looking forward to seeing Dorian, and folded it up. He summoned his butler and told him this must be delivered to Dorian Gray’s house as soon as possible.

Now he has to wait. He would wait all day if he must, in case Dorian wanted to see him. But he couldn’t just sit at his desk for hours, drumming his fingers on the desk. 

Basil stood and walked across the hall into what was going to be his art studio. Not much was set up, some of his drawings were leaning up against the wall. Near the window was his easel with his latest painting on it. A simple landscape of the view outside his old flat. He painted it just before he left. Perhaps he was feeling sentimental about it and wanted to have something to remember it by. Nevertheless, he needed something to do to distract him.

He grabbed his sketchbook and sat down, ready to draw. Only, he wasn’t sure what he should draw. The garden looked dreadfully boring without anything growing in it. Basil made a mental note to work on that. He can’t live in a place that has a garden with nothing growing.

Picking up a pencil, he decided to see what his mind wanted him to draw. So he started to sketch.

And it wasn’t a landscape like he normally drew. No, no, instead it looked like he was drawing people. Or one person in particular.

Basil wasn’t sure how he was drawing Dorian Gray from memory, since he had only seen him once and spoke to him very little, but that’s who his drawings were looking like. He examined the sketches closely, feeling quite embarrassed about drawing a stranger. He’ll make sure to hide these before Dorian stops by as he wouldn’t want the other man to be upset.

Shutting the sketchbook, Basil stood up and looked around. Not much time had passed and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to until Dorian showed up. 

He decided to organize the studio. Then reorganize it. He tried to display his best works in a way that wasn’t too obvious but could still be easily seen. Basil cycled through the various finished paintings on the easel, trying to decide which one should be up there. The others he placed around the room, leaning up against the walls and various furniture. 

After his fourth time completely reorganizing the room, his butler appeared in the doorway to tell him that a Mr. Gray had arrived. Basil glanced over the room, deciding that it would be good enough, and followed his butler downstairs to greet Dorian.

There, in the entryway, was Dorian Gray, looking more handsome than he did last night. His dark grey suit, one different than he wore last night, and a dark blue cape that hung off his shoulder and trailed behind him, made Basil feel underdressed in his own home. 

“Mr. Gray! Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Basil greeted with a smile.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, I’ve only just arrived,” he replied. “And call me Dorian. If we are to become friends there is no need to be so formal with each other.”

“Of course! Dorian.” Basil wasn’t sure what he had done to be so blessed by saying his name. “Then you must call me Basil.”

Dorian smiled and Basil felt as though he was going to drop dead. 

“Alright, Basil, what do you have to show me?”

The way Dorian said his name. So sweet, so gentle. It made Basil’s heart flutter. And as he led Dorian up to the studio, he was certain that Dorian Gray would be the death of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basil is a lovesick fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't proofread this so if there's typos or anything it's all on me bc i wanted to get this updated

Basil led Dorian into the art studio, glancing at the painting he left on the easel. It was his latest one, the view from the old flat, which sat there, the painting softly glinting in the sunlight. Basil wanted to change it again, rearrange the studio just one more time to make sure it was perfect for Dorian. 

Especially considering Dorian was just standing in the middle of the room, looking at the painting on the easel. Not saying a word.

“It’s not my best work,” Basil started, feeling embarrassed that Dorian had to lay eyes on it. 

“I think it’s marvelous,” Dorian replied, walking closer to it. He smiled and nodded to himself. “Yes, quite marvelous indeed.”

“Oh?” Was all he could manage to say as Dorian walked past him to look at more of the paintings. Now he was the one who was standing in the middle of the room. Just staring at the painting. 

“Are these drawings of me?” Dorian asked, causing Basil to snap out of his thoughts. “I’ll admit, they could be a little better, but they are lovely.”

He was holding the sketchbook. The one Basil was supposed to hide so he could avoid this very thing. He hated it. Those stupid little sketches. 

“I’ve been trying to work more on my portraits. Drawing people isn’t something I’m the best at,” Basil explained, forcing his legs to move and walk over to Dorian. “May I?” He asked, reaching for his own sketchbook.

“Could I keep these?” Dorian continued, holding the sketchbook closer to himself.

“Why would you want to do that?” 

The blonde shrugged, tracing his fingers over the page. Basil watched, seemingly transfixed by the movements. Any thought of taking the sketchbook away went out the window. 

"I could draw you again, if you'd like," he blurted out, not being able to take the silence anymore. "It wouldn't be from memory this time, so perhaps it would be better than those." Shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Would you?" Dorian looked up, seeming more interested than before. 

"Yes, of course!" Basil reached for his sketchbook, this time actually grabbing it from Dorian. "If you would," he gestured to the stool near the window, "please sit down."

Dorian walked over there and sat on the stool, adjusting his cape and smoothing out any wrinkles in his suit. Basil took the chair from in the corner and scooted it closer to Dorian, but far enough away so that he wasn't suffocating the other man. He sat down, crossing one leg over the other and turning the page to a blank one. 

While it didn't take Basil that long to sketch Dorian, he could tell the other man was getting antsy. He kept fidgeting and sighing dramatically, like this was taking forever. It made Basil nervous. Nervous that he would mess up or that his drawing wouldn't live up to Dorian's expectations. Maybe he shouldn't have offered to do this…

"There! Finished," Basil said, suddenly standing up from the chair. He walked over and handed Dorian the sketchbook, trying to appear confident. If he was confident, maybe Dorian wouldn't be so cruel about it. 

“You should draw people more often,” Dorian suggested, winking at Basil. 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, trying not to get too flustered, “then you should come by tomorrow and I could draw you again.”

“I shall see you tomorrow then, Basil.”

For the next couple of weeks, they fell into a comfortable routine. Dorian would come over and Basil would either draw him or work on a new landscape painting with Dorian. Even if the other man never showed any interest in learning to draw, he told Basil that it was too messy, he would watch Basil intently. Every brush stroke, every line drawn, Dorian would watch. 

Sometimes he’d stand too close to Basil and he felt like Dorian was breathing down his neck. It took everything in him to not shiver. Every time Dorian stood close to him, his heartbeat would speed up. He was certain Dorian could hear it. Why he never mentioned it, Basil was never sure. 

During days that Dorian didn’t want to sit for a drawing or he didn’t want to watch Basil paint, Basil would visit his house. It was so much bigger, so much more grander than Basil’s humble, little flat. It fit Dorian. He deserved it. He deserved everything Basil had to offer. He would give Dorian everything in a heartbeat, if that’s what he wanted.

At Dorian’s house, they would mostly just sit around talking. Dorian gave him a tour once and Basil couldn’t help but love the library. So many windows, so much natural light. Must be the artist in him. And even when they were there, Basil would bring his sketchbook along and end up drawing Dorian. 

His sketchbook began to be filled with Dorian. He was everywhere. All the pages were dedicated to this man. Basil wouldn’t admit it, hated to even think of it, but he loved Dorian. His attention. His smile. His pale blue eyes. Everything. Basil loved everything about Dorian Gray.

“Oh Basil!” Dorian’s voice called out one afternoon. 

Basil had just left the room for two minutes to ask for tea when he heard Dorian’s voice, summoning him. But when he went back into the room, Dorian was standing near the hallway, looking at the long mirror.

“Yes, Dorian?” Basil asked, walking over the man and the mirror.

“I just wanted to tell you, I do rather like this mirror. Where did you get it?”

“I do believe, Dorian, that you like what you see in the mirror, rather than what the mirror looks like.”

Dorian scowled at him through the mirror and nudged him. “Though that might be true, you did not tell me where you got it.”

“It was here when I got the flat,” Basil answered. 

“What a shame. I was hoping I could get one like it.” 

Dorian sighed loudly and walked past Basil back into the room. The movement caused the mirror to sway a bit. How odd. Yet Basil couldn’t think about that for too long since the butler walked past carrying a tray with the tea. He’d have to wait. He walked into the room and sat back down in the chair he was once sitting in.

A couple hours later, after Dorian left, Basil decided to really look at the mirror. He had sent his butler to bed early, as he wanted to be alone. He was too nervous to be asked why he was messing with the mirror. It might have been his imagination but he wanted to check it out.

He crept down the stairs, his grip on the candlestick that illuminated his way made his knuckles turn white. Basil was careful not to bump into anything as he made it over to the mirror. Well, now what? He nudged the side of the mirror, expecting it to not budge, much like it did when he moved in.

But it swayed like it was hanging on a nail or something.

His heart pounding in his chest, Basil set the candle down on a nearby table and grabbed both sides of the mirror. It wasn’t nearly as heavy as it looked and Basil was able to lift it with ease. Glancing around, he eventually decided to set it a little ways down the hall against the wall. Turning back to the mirror he saw…

A trapdoor?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basil goes through that trapdoor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> social distancing has really given me time to write more

The trapdoor was smaller than the rest of the doors. If he bent his knees, maybe he could fit through the door. And the door looked so much older than the rest of the flat. It looked out of place. Maybe that was why the previous owner put the mirror there. But why would anyone put a mirror over a door? 

Basil reached out and grabbed the door handle, trying to pull the door open but it wouldn’t budge. Of course it was locked. He sighed, frustrated. Why would someone lock this door? He looked back at the mirror, about ready to give up, when he remembered.

There was a key that he found when he was moving in. He wasn’t sure what it was for, he tried using it on all the other doors but it didn’t fit. It looked too old. After he was certain that he tried every lock in the place, everything that he could possibly imagine that would unlock, he threw the key somewhere. 

“Bloody hell,” Basil grabbed the candle and made his way to the entryway, opening and digging through drawers, looking anywhere the key could be. “Where is it?” 

He went upstairs to his room and started digging through the drawers there. He was sure he was making a ruckus. That didn’t matter. He wanted to find this key. He  _ needed _ to find it. 

Basil then went to the studio, feeling more and more desperate. He was starting to think that he threw the key away. Disposed of it. Where else could it be? Where, where, where?

“Huh?” 

Hanging inside a cabinet door, on a hook that Basil does not remember being there before, was the key. Nevertheless, he grabbed the key and made his way back downstairs, back over to the trapdoor.

_ Well, here goes nothing _ . He slid the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door. The door opened to a dark hallway. A dark hallway that led to… his flat? Basil raised his brows, pocketing the key and closing the trapdoor behind him then looked around. It  _ looked _ like his flat. Mostly. While it looked like his place, it felt a little off. Like everything was moved slightly to the left. Just slightly brighter and more colorful.

Basil walked around his flat, being careful not to touch anything. It was like he was a stranger in his own home. As he glanced out the window, he saw a figure standing there, their back turned towards Basil. 

“Hello?” He called, moving towards the door towards the garden. “Can I help you?” 

The figure didn’t appear to have heard him. How odd.

Basil opened the door, stepping out into the garden, finally realizing who the figure was. Blonde hair. His long, sweeping cloak, which hung off of one shoulder. His usual dark grey suit, however, was replaced with a pale blue one.  _ Dorian _ . The name hung on his lips as he moved closer, almost as though he was trying to work up the courage to say the other man’s name. His heart was pounding in his chest as he moved closer, ready to embrace Dorian. Then Dorian turned around. Then Basil saw the buttons. The buttons in place of Dorian’s eyes. The name, the words he was preparing to say, died on his lips. 

“My dearest Basil!” Dorian said, smiling widely and opening his arms. Basil never saw Dorian smile this wide before. It looked  _ almost _ unnatural. And those buttons. Those dark, dark buttons. They stood out so plainly, so clearly, against his pale skin. His skin so pale it was almost paper white.

“Dorian?” Basil sounded confused. His voice strangled. This didn’t feel right. His eyes wandered down from Dorian’s face, onto the suit. That blue looked familiar… Almost like Dorian’s eye color.

Dorian shook his head as he moved closer to Basil and reached for one of his hands. “I’m not the  _ real _ Dorian. I’m the Other Dorian,” he explained, grasping Basil’s hand with his own. His paper white skin didn’t feel rough like Basil expected. His hands were soft. Almost too soft. And so smooth. Basil never held Dorian’s hand before, but this felt wrong. This wasn’t how he imagined it.

“Other Dorian?” Basil echoed, feeling dumb that he didn’t understand. 

“Yes,” he explained, the smile never fading. It was starting to make Basil uneasy. “I’ve been waiting for you, my dear Basil,” he continued, making Basil more uneasy and more confused. 

“You’ve been waiting-”

Other Dorian cut him off by pressing a finger to Basil’s lips. 

“Come, I have to show you something,” he said, brushing the back of his hand across Basil’s cheek. 

The softness of the hand against his cheek, how delicately Other Dorian grabbed his hand again and pulled him along, reminded him of what he wished Dorian would do. That Dorian would be interested in holding Basil’s hand and would be interested in only Basil. Not anyone or anything else. 

He was led up the stairs and into his studio. It was filled with more paintings, more sketches and drawings, more than Basil ever imagined. 

“Do you like it?” Other Dorian asked circling Basil then moving to stand in the middle of the room.

“It’s… wonderful,” Basil murmured.

“Perfect.”

Basil walked past Other Dorian, going over to the easel that sat near the window, holding a blank canvas. Beside it, sitting on a small table, was his painting palette and a paintbrush.

“May I?” He asked, his hands itching to draw.

“Of course, Basil. Whatever you’d like. It is  _ your _ studio, after all,” Other Dorian answered, pulling up a chair for Basil to sit on.

Even if Other Dorian said that, it didn’t  _ feel _ like his studio. Perhaps he just had to settle in. The same thing happened when he moved into the flat. Yet with Other Dorian perched on the stool and the paintbrush in his hand, Basil felt a familiar sense of ease. Maybe because he was with Dorian. Even if this Dorian had buttons for eyes.

Painting always relaxed Basil. He would get so engrossed in what he was doing that he would occasionally forget where he was. And other the past few weeks, with Dorian, he had gotten better at painting portraits. More comfortable. Dorian would complain, however, about the fact that Basil was so quiet. How he never spoke when painting. Dorian would also fidget. While he was the closest to perfection that anyone could ever be, he wasn’t the best sitter. Not that Basil would say that out loud. He hated himself for even thinking about it. 

Yet Other Dorian sat still and never spoke a word. He never moved or complained about how Basil wasn’t talking. He sat there, looking at Basil with a look he hoped was loving. It was hard to tell when his eyes were buttons. 

Some time later, Basil wasn’t sure how much time had passed, Other Dorian got up from the stool and walked over. He looked at the painting, which was only partially finished and said,

“My dear Basil, it is time for us to stop.”

He blinked, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen in his face behind his ear. He then realized how stiff his back was from sitting in the same position for such a long time.

“Come, dear friend, you must get some rest,” Other Dorian gently grabbed his arm, pulling him up from the chair he was sitting on. “You can finish next time.”

Basil nodded and let himself be led out of the studio, across to his room. And just like the studio, the bedroom here was not the same as his real one. Sure the bed felt more comfortable, like he was floating on a cloud and had colorful curtains hanging above the bed, making Basil feel as though he was in yet another world inside the already strange one. 

As Basil laid down in the bed, Other Dorian smiled sweetly at him and pulled the covers up over Basil, much like a parent would when putting a child to bed. 

“Sleep well, my dear Basil,” he murmured, kissing his forehead and stroked his cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

Basil woke up in his bed. His real bed. He tried to ignore the disappointment that settled over him as he realized this. He rather liked being in the other flat with that Other Dorian. He almost loved that was much as he loved spending time with Dorian. He quickly banished that thought and got ready for his day. 

By the time he had finished breakfast, his friend, Lord Henry Wotton, was waiting for him. It had been some time since he last spoke to his friend alone, so he felt a little tense. 

“Harry,” he greeted, a smile spreading across his lips as he walked into the sitting room, where Lord Henry was sitting, waiting for him.

“Basil!” Lord Henry rose to greet him, his arms open, and returned Basil’s smile.

“How can I help you?” He asked, cringing at how that made him sound. What was he? A shop clerk? Yet, if Harry had a problem with it, he didn’t say anything about it.

“I’ve heard marvelous things about your art work, and I wanted to see it,” Henry replied.

Basil nodded, his smile never faltering as he led Henry out of the room and up to his studio. Up on the easel was his current painting of Dorian, the  _ real _ Dorian. How different it looked from the painting last night in his dream. Because that’s all it was, right? He must’ve been dreaming, it was so, so nice that it couldn’t possibly have been real. 

Lord Henry began to work his way around the room, much like Dorian did, all those weeks ago. He would pick something up, mutter some sort of compliment about the piece. And while he did that, Basil occupied himself with fixing up part of the painting he was unhappy with. 

“It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done.” 

Henry had ended up lounging on the sofa that Basil had recently bought and brought up to the studio. Dorian had complained about the chairs and wanted something more comfortable. Basil, always wanting to please his friend, agreed that the studio needed a more homey feel to it. Thus, the sofa. 

Basil shook his head as his friend talked about him displaying the artwork anywhere. There was too much of it in him. Even if it was of Dorian. He couldn’t possibly display it, and while he tried to explain that to Harry, he ended up talking all about the blonde haired man who had consumed his life. 

By the end of the conversation, they ended up in the garden. The warm, summer day, with it’s cool breeze, brought a smile to Basil’s face. Such a lovely day. Perhaps he and Dorian would go for a walk today. That is, if Henry was leaving soon. Basil was expecting Dorian to arrive any minute and he wanted Henry to be gone before that happened. 

But Henry didn’t leave. And Dorian arrived. Basil had begged, he  _ begged _ Henry to leave. To not spew his philosophies to Dorian. Why would Henry never listen to him?

With the day gone, the afternoon ruined, and his plans with Dorian being cancelled for something better, Basil was feeling rather low. He had little appetite and went to bed rather early, instructing his butler to not bother him tomorrow until he rang. And just as he was drifting off, some urge, something  _ calling _ him, made him get out of bed.

So he got out of bed, down the stairs, down the hall, to the mirror. And he went back. Back through the trapdoor behind the mirror, back to the strange other world where Dorian would hold his hand and smile at him so sweetly it hurt. Back down the hallway and to the other world.

“My dear Basil!” Other Dorian called out to him when he exited the hallway to his other flat. Other Dorian had his arms open, ready to embrace Basil.

“Dorian,” Basil sighed and couldn’t help but smile. 

“Come, a friend is waiting for you,” the blonde said, ushering Basil into the room.

They stopped in the sitting room, which now had a faint haze of smoke. Sitting alone in the room was a figure, looking as though it was smoking a cigarette. Basil took a couple steps towards the figure, trying to see through the cloud of smoke. 

“Harry?”

Sitting in the armchair was, in fact, Lord Henry Wotton. Except, he also had buttons for eyes. Huge, black buttons. What was with this world and buttons for eyes? Lord Henry waved at Basil, smiling and puffing on the cigarette, adding more and more smoke to the already hazy room.

“Harry, why are you not speaking to me?”

“He can’t speak, I figured you’d like him more that way,” Other Dorian explained.

While Basil did get annoyed by his friend by the things he would say, he never wanted him to go mute. The uneasy feeling returned at the thought of not talking to his friend again.

“Would you be able to fix that?” He asked, glancing at Other Dorian. The smoke must’ve clouded Basil’s vision as for a short moment, it appeared as though Other Dorian had scowled at him. Yet that expression was quickly replaced with his usual smile. Must’ve been a trick of the light.

“Of course, I’ll see what I can do.” He sounded tense. More strained. “But! We mustn’t wait around much longer. Basil, we must finish the painting.” The sudden change in Other Dorian’s voice made him dizzy. “Come Basil. Come, Other Wotton.”

Other Dorian glided out of the room, yet Basil was less slow, waiting for Other Wotton to rise and join him. Doing so, he turned away, making his way over to the door.

“The Beldam,” a weak voice croaked from behind him.

“What?” Basil looked over his shoulder. “Did you say something?”

“The Beldam,” Other Wotton repeated, his hand reaching out towards Basil. “Watch… for… the Beldam.”

“Sorry?” 

“Oh Basil!” Other Dorian’s voice called out from down the hall. “We’re wasting time!”

“I’m coming!” Basil replied, before glancing back at Other Wotton. Shaking his head because this room and all it’s smoke was messing with him, he walked out of the room without waiting for Other Wotton.

Other Dorian was waiting at the foot of the stairs, ushering Basil up them and back into the studio. Basil sat down in the chair while Other Dorian moved back to his perch on the stool. Other Wotton had walked in when Basil was getting the paint mixed up, bringing with him that familiar haze of smoke. 

The smoke, again, must’ve been playing tricks on him. After Basil had started painting again, the picture… started to change. Only slightly. The colors were brighter than they were before. Then the expression, the expression he  _ just _ painted, changed. But then he blinked and it was back to what it was before.

“I believe, I’m finished,” Basil spoke, setting the paintbrush down. 

Other Dorian hopped off his perch and scurried over to look at the painting. He smiled and placed his hands on Basil’s shoulders.

“It’s marvelous, isn’t it marvelous, Henry?” Other Dorian looked at Other Wotton, who merely just nodded. “Now, why don’t you draw Henry? I fear he might be jealous.”

Basil glanced at Other Wotton, who nodded again. Why was Other Dorian so obsessed with this? But the thought of saying no to Other Dorian, no matter the reason, didn’t sit well with Basil, so he agreed.

Other Wotton positioned himself on the couch, taking a drag from the cigarette, focusing on Basil. Other Dorian placed a sketchbook and pencil in his hands. That man was so demanding. Not unlike the real Dorian.

At some point during the drawing, Other Dorian had left the room, and didn’t return. Not even when Basil announced, again, that he was finished. How odd.

“Where do you think Dorian went?” Basil asked, looking from the door to Other Wotton. “Do you think he’ll come back?” Basil wasn’t used to Henry not talking.

He got up from the chair, walking over to the couch and sitting down next to his button-eyed friend. Basil offered the drawing to Other Wotton, who took it, staring at it blankly. Or at least, Basil thought he was staring at it. The buttons made him shiver. 

“What were you saying, earlier?” He continued, lowering his voice. For some reason, he didn’t want Other Dorian to overhear this. “About the Beldam?” 

No answer. 

“You can tell me, Harry. You’re my friend.” 

Basil reached out and touched Other Wotton’s hand. He smiled, hoping he was comforting enough for Other Wotton to try to speak again.

“All finished?” Other Dorian asked, standing in the doorway. The expression on his face was hard to read, but it put Basil on edge.

Pulling his hand away, Basil stood up and nodded. “Yes, it’s finished. And now, I think I wish to sleep.”

“Oh, but I have something for you!” It was just now that Basil noticed he was holding a small, pale blue box with a bright red ribbon wrapped around it. “Open it, my dear Basil.”

Basil walked over and took the box from Other Dorian, hesitating for a moment before pulling on the bow. He took the cover off and his heart dropped. 

They were just like Other Dorian’s. Just like Other Wotton’s. So neatly placed, on a red cushion, the same shade as the ribbon. Sitting inside the box were two identical, black buttons.


	6. Chapter 6

Basil nearly dropped the box out of shock. He looked up at Other Dorian, expecting an explanation. Why was he giving him…  _ buttons _ . Or why he thought this was some kind of funny joke. 

“Dorian… I…”

“What’s the problem, my dear Basil?” Other Dorian asked, a smile plastered on his pale, pale face.

“What are these buttons for?” His voice was quiet. He looked back at the buttons, a feeling of dread settling over him.

“They’re for you, of course!”

“I understand that, but  _ why?” _

“So you can stay here!” Oher Dorian explained, reaching over and picking up one of the buttons. He held it up, holding it close to Basil’s face. “However, I believe that black isn’t your color. It’s too dark. Perhaps something lighter.” Suddenly, the button in Other Dorian’s hand changed to a light green. He then shook his head and the button changed, yet again, to a brown. “No, none of these look right.” The button changed one more time, back to black, and Other Dorian set it back in the box, next to the other one. “No matter! We can make a final decision later! We  _ will _ find the perfect color for you, my dear Basil.” Other Dorian brushed Basil's cheek with the back of his hand, his lips curling into a smile.

Oh this was so bad. This must all be a bad dream. Basil will wake up, back in his bed, and he’ll be okay.

“Do I need to have buttons?”

“If you want to stay with me, of course! Don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit.”

“Right…” Basil nodded. “Well, like I said, I must be going. I’m really tired and I would like to sleep.”

“Of course, right this way,” Other Dorian linked arms with Basil and led him out of the studio to Basil’s room. He wanted to tear his arm away, but he didn't.

Once in his room, however, he pulled his arm out of Other Dorian's grasp and sat down on the bed, not letting himself fall asleep until Other Dorian was out of the room. He didn't trust the man. At least not now.

“I’ll set this here, in case you change your mind,” Other Dorian spoke, setting the box with the dreadful buttons on Basil’s desk. Then, rather than leaving like Basil expected, he moved and sat down on the bed across from Basil. “I really hope you decide to stay with me.” Again, he reached out and stroked Basil’s cheek with his hand. “I would cherish you, my dear. I would cherish you more than anyone else could.”

Without meaning it, Basil felt himself leaning into Other Dorian’s touch. This felt wrong, for so many reasons, but the most recent one being Other Dorian wants to  _ sew buttons onto his eyes _ . But if… if he closed his eyes… this could be the real Dorian saying these things. Saying he’ll cherish Basil.

“Just stay with me,” Other Dorian’s voice was so soft, so smooth. Basil’s eyes fluttered shut and he breathed out a sigh. “I would never abandon you, my dear Basil.”

It could be the real Dorian. It sounded just like him. The real Dorian could be making these promises. Dorian’s voice sounded so sweet. And before he knew it, there were lips pressed against his. Someone was kissing him. Dorian was kissing him! It really was, Dorian, right?

Basil sighed, blindly reaching up and cupping Dorian’s face. But all too soon, Dorian pulled away and Basil’s eyes opened. This wasn’t the real Dorian. 

“I hope that helps you make a decision,” Other Dorian murmured, standing up and walking out of the room, leaving Basil dumbfounded.

Basil sat there, staring at the spot where Other Dorian just was. It can’t be that he can go from being so uneasy to so sweet in a matter of seconds. He looked over at the buttons on the next and raised his hand to his lips. Maybe staying here, with Other Dorian, would be worth it. Maybe he would let him sew buttons on his eyes.

_ No! _

He could not be seriously considering this. He was just tired. He needed to sleep and he’ll be able to think clearly in the morning. When he was back in his own flat. So that was what he did. Basil crawled under the covers and fell asleep.

Much like last time, he woke up back in his real flat. His butler brought him the post that had been delivered before he woke. There were a couple. One from Lord Henry that was written last night. Henry wrote how he would consider going to see an opera with him tonight. Basil will have to consider that. The other was from Lady Agatha, inviting him to yet another party later that week. That, he knew for certain, was something he did not want to attend. If only there was a way for him to get out of that.

“Is Dorian planning to visit later today, sir?” His butler asked.

“I hope so,” he answered. 

Dorian didn't. He didn't show up that day and he never gave Basil an explanation why. He didn't visit Basil the next day either. A whole week passed with nothing from Dorian Gray. 

Basil tried to convince himself it was nothing, that Dorian must be ill. Yet that couldn't explain why Henry hasn't said anything to Basil during the week as well. Even when he agreed to see the opera with him. Silence.

Were they both mad at him? Did Basil somehow ruin his relationship with both of them? He hoped not. He liked them and without talking to either of them, he felt rather lonely.

Lady Agatha thought so, as well. Basil wasn't able to get out of going to that party, like he had wanted.

"Have you heard from Mr. Gray?" She asked, rather loudly. In response, Basil only shook his head. "How strange! I haven't spoken to him in days! He missed a concert we were to play in!"

"I'm sure he's just not feeling well," Basil tried to reassure her. It wasn't working. "If you'll excuse me." He nodded at her then slipped away. 

If Dorian was angry at Basil and Lady Agatha, he would understand. But as Basil started to ask around, he learned that no one had heard from him or Lord Henry. They had gone to the opera and no one had seen them since. They were both missing. And Basil had an idea where they might be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long with this update! my life had gotten hectic and while i planned on updating again near the end of may, clearly that didn't happen

"Where are they?" 

Basil was back in the other world for the first time since Other Dorian offered him buttons. He went home early from the party, realizing that maybe they're somewhere in the other world, too. Maybe Other Dorian lured them here. Basil can't possibly be the only person that Other Dorian was interested in.

"Where are who, my dear?" Other Dorian asked, rising from his seat. 

"My friends. The real Dorian and Lord Henry."

The expression on Other Dorian's face was difficult to read, the buttons really were an added challenge, but he looked… confused? "My dear, I have no idea what you're talking about. Why are you asking me?"

Basil faltered when faced with Other Dorian's confusion. It didn't make sense that the real Dorian and Lord Henry even be here. And from what Basil had seen, Other Dorian and Other Wotton couldn't leave this flat, this world. Along with the fact that the only doorway to this world was behind his mirror, there was no possible way that Other Dorian somehow brought Dorian and Harry here. Basil would've ran into them during one of his visits, anyway.

Other Dorian was still waiting for an answer. Basil shook his head, muttering some sort of an apology. Claiming that he was confused and hadn't slept well.

"Oh, my dear, Basil," Other Dorian cooed, walking forward and grabbing Basil's hands. "I know just the thing. You must see the garden."

Basil had seen his garden. There was nothing impressive about it. Or special. It was just a regular garden. No reason for Other Dorian to insist on him seeing it. 

"If you wish," Basil answered, smiling awkwardly. 

Other Dorian nodded, his lips curving into a smile and led Basil out the door to the garden. And it was…

Magnificent. 

Basil hadn’t really appreciated the garden the first time he went out here, he was mainly focused on Other Dorian, but how marvelous it was.

The flowers in bloom, so colorful and smelled so sweet. Surrounding the small, stone path that led to a small pond with water lilies floating around. There was a bridge, arching over the pond that Other Dorian led Basil across.

The other side was more marvelous than the last. A couple trees tower over the pair and marked the entrance to a hedge maze.

Basil’s garden did not have a hedge maze.

“Do you like it?” Other Dorian asked, his voice soft.

Basil looked at him and nodded. “I love it.”

“Perfect. I’m glad.”

Basil walked towards the entrance of the maze, but hesitated for a moment. How big was the maze? How twisting and winding was it?

“Shall we walk through together?” Other Dorian suggested, walking into the maze, a couple steps ahead of Basil. He turned around and extended his hand, waiting for Basil to take it.

The hesitation was gone and Basil grabbed Other Dorian’s hand.

The maze didn’t have many dead ends. It felt rather straightforward, no matter how twisted the path was. In no time, the two made it to the center of the maze, which held another small pond, looking a lot like the one outside the maze. Must be a coincidence.

“Do you truly enjoy being here?”

Basil looked down at his reflection in the maze and hummed. Of course, he wanted to say yes. He loved being here. He loved Other Dorian’s attention. But no matter how much he loved it there, no matter how much he loved Other Dorian’s attention, the dark, dark buttons in the box made him uncomfortable. Other Dorian offering the buttons confused him. He didn’t want to agree.

“Let’s keep going,” Basil answered.

Whether that was the answer Other Dorian was expecting or not, he didn’t say. Wordlessly, he gestured to the walkway across from the one they just walked through. And without taking Basil’s hand, he started walking.

He was walking a lot faster than he was before. Basil struggled to keep up with him, but every time Other Dorian turned a corner, Basil had to jog to keep him in sight. They walked further into the maze and the sky around them became darker and darker. 

“How much longer, Dorian?”

Other Dorian kept walking, his pace quickening. Basil broke out into a jog and as he turned the corner, thinking he finally caught up to Other Dorian, he found that he was alone. Other Dorian had vanished.

“Dorian?” 

Basil looked around, thinking that maybe he just got turned around somehow.

“Dorian?!” 

Basil started walking, panic welling up in his chest. He turned a corner and found a dead end. Then another. And another. He felt trapped. Everywhere he turned, another dead end. What was happening?! He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of where he had gone wrong. There had to be a way out of here.

When Basil opened his eyes, the sky was bright. The sun was shining and he raised his hand to shield his eyes from it. He looked around and walked down a walkway, suddenly finding himself at the door leading to his flat.

He looked over his shoulder, back at the maze, confused, before walking into his flat.

“Dorian?” He called out.

He walked into the sitting room to find Other Wotton, alone on the couch.

“Harry! Have you seen Dorian?”

Other Wotton turned his head, looking at him, blowing smoke out from between his lips. He brought the cigarette to his lips and turned back to whatever he was looking for before. Basil assumed that he hadn’t.

Basil walked over and sat down on the couch next to Other Wotton. Even if he had buttons and couldn’t speak, Basil felt comforted by his old friend.

“I just had the weirdest experience outside.”

Other Wotton nodded, blowing more smoke out.

“I was in the maze with Other Dorian and suddenly, he disappeared. Then, as I was trying to find him, I got lost. I hope Other Dorian isn’t stuck in the maze, looking for me.”

As Basil was talking, smoke slowly filled the room, making it hard for him to see Other Wotton in front of him.

“Harry, do you think that we should go out and look for him?” Basil asked.

Other Wotton shook his head furiously. It was hard to have a conversation with someone when they couldn’t talk back.

“Is there anything we should do?” He pressed.

Other Wotton shook his head again. His movements were stiff and quick. Panicky.

“Harry, is everything alright?” The room was hot and the smoke made his chest hurt, but he needed an answer.

Suddenly, Other Wotton laughed, but his laugh wasn’t right. Basil has heard the real Henry Wotton laugh before, and this wasn’t it. This sounded… inhuman. His lit cigarette burned bright, burning close to his hands. Which… started to droop? 

“Henry?” Basil reached out, placing his hand on Other Wotton’s arm in an attempt to comfort him.

Other Wotton brought the cigarette to his lips and took a drag. The heat must’ve been too much as his cheeks started to sag. Everything looked out of proportion, with his fingers holding the cigarette drooping and his face sagging. Like a candle, Other Wotton was melting before his eyes.

He pulled his hand away, horrified that  _ part of Other Wotton’s arm moved with him _ . He stared at his hand in disbelief because there could not be chunks of Other Wotton on his hand, stuck to him like clay. Basil let out a yelp and jumped back, off the couch and away from Other Wotton, clutching his hand with his wrist. Part of Other Wotton was still stuck to him. How was he going to get this off?

  
“What’s — Henry what’s happening to you?!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, big warning for this chapter!  
> there's some eye trauma near the end of the chapter. if you wish to skip that part the scene you need to skip will be in italics!  
> i hope you enjoy

Everything was going wrong. Someone must have flipped a switch, because it was all heading downhill at an accelerated rate. Basil wanted to get out of there. To find the  _ real _ Dorian and the  _ real _ Lord Henry. His real friends. 

Other Wotton was still trying to reach for him as Basil ran out of the room, out of the flat. Other Wotton’s laughter was ringing in his ears.

Basil found himself, yet again, in the garden. The maze’s exit was nowhere in sight, yet Basil was too panicked to think about that. He sat on a nearby bench, wrapping his arms around himself and breathing deeply. This was a nightmare.

He had to get out of there.

After a few more deep breaths, Basil felt calm enough to go back into the flat and make his escape. He made his way out of the garden and into the flat, into the hallway, towards the mirror. He was going home and he was never coming back. Perhaps Dorian and Lord Henry were back from whatever little trip they were on. Everything will be okay. He just had to get out of here.

“Oh, Basil,” a sweet voice called. From the sitting room, Other Dorian stepped out, tugging something—no—someone with him. “Dear Basil, I would love to talk to you.”

“About what?” Basil asked, turning to look at him.

“I must apologize, dear Basil. I am  _ terribly _ sorry that Other Wotton went and got himself all messed up.” 

Basil's eyes lowered to the thing in Other Dorian's arms and the realization hit him. That was what the thing was. It was the remains of Other Wotton.

“It’s fine, truly,” Basil assured, turning his attention towards the mirror again. If he could just open the trapdoor, this horrible dream could end.

“No, no, dear Basil! You must  _ stay _ !” Other Dorian sounded desperate. “I’ll make you a  _ new _ friend! One much better than this old one!”

“That isn’t necessary, Dorian,” he said, moving closer towards the mirror.

“No! I assure you, it is!” The other man insisted. “I’ll make you a new friend! And then, you’ll be with me! And you'll love me!”

“I’m sorry, Dorian,” Basil murmured, not looking at Other Dorian. “I cannot stay here. I don’t love you.”

“What?” Other Dorian exclaimed, causing Basil to flinch. This was the first time Other Dorian has raised his voice towards him. “You don’t  _ love _ me?” 

Basil glanced at Other Dorian and the sight he saw terrified him.

“After everything I’ve done?” The other man howled. Was it just Basil’s imagination or was Other Dorian getting taller? “After all that I’ve done for you? You won’t even  _ love me _ ?” His face started to twist and contort, almost like he was cracking at the seams. He reached out to grab Basil, his fingers now like claws. “What do I have to do, Basil?” He grabbed Basil’s jaw with his claw-like fingers, leaning in close. “What do I have to do to make you love me?” 

Other Dorian now towered over Basil, his limbs, now longer and ganglier. His face, cracked and broken up at the seams. The cape, which used to drag along behind him now hung from his long, boney shoulders. He looked like a thing of nightmares. How fitting. 

Basil wanted to turn away, pull himself out of Other Dorian’s monstrous grasp, but the claws dug into his face, causing him to wince in pain. Other Dorian’s voice made his skin crawl. How could someone ruin something so sweet? So wonderful?

“I have done  _ everything _ you’ve ever asked!  _ Everything _ you’ve ever wanted, I’ve made and I’ve done! How  _ dare _ you!” Other Dorian continued. 

“I-” Basil tried to speak, tried to defend himself. Only for the other man to cut him off.

“Don’t speak!” Other Dorian spat. “Don’t say another word!” With that, he removed his hand from Basil’s jaw and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him out of the room, leaving the remains of Other Wotton on the floor.

Basil tried to pull himself out of Other Dorian’s grasp, tried to get away from this monster. But the grip was too tight. The claws were too deep. Basil was too weak. He was stuck, helplessly being taken to wherever Other Dorian pleased. Probably to kill him. 

Basil felt himself going up the stairs, onto the floor with his bedroom. Then up another flight? That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how his flat was made. It only had two floors. Where were they going? Basil then heard a door being opened, a loud creaking sound. 

“Your eyes or theirs!” Other Dorian spoke, shoving Basil forward. 

He blinked, trying to get his bearings. Then he heard a soft tapping in front of him. And he blinked again, his eyes adjusting to the dim light to recognize the portrait in front of him. Dorian’s portrait. Except… 

Dorian wasn’t alone in this painting. There, standing next to him, looking about as terrified as he was, was the real Lord Henry. __

_ “What have you done to them?” Basil asked, his voice shaking as he tore his eyes away from the real Dorian to look at Other Dorian. _

_ “Oh, nothing! Yet.” Other Dorian laughed, grabbing a pair of scissors from their place on the shelf in the corner.  _

_ Basil felt a sense of dread settle over him as he looked back at the portrait.  _ Oh Dorian… _ What has Basil done? Why did he keep coming here? To this place? He reached up and gently touched the canvas, wishing that he could rip Dorian and Henry from the painting and save them.  _

_ “Now, my dear Basil,” the monster’s voice spoke from behind him, spitting out his name like it tasted foul. “Your eyes or theirs.” _

_ “What do you mean?” He asked, not looking away from Dorian. The real Dorian. His Dorian. He needed to get them out of here. _

_ “You give me your eyes or I take theirs. They would remain here, in this painting, forever.”  _

What?

_ Basil wasn’t sure if he heard him correctly. He was too busy looking at Dorian and Henry. His friends. His real friends, not like the beings, the lies, that were created here. _

_ He heard Other Dorian moving around behind him, muttering something, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him. He was too focused on his friends. Was this a trick? Another thing Other Dorian did to please Basil? Yet, looking at them, in the painting, there was a spark of familiarity. The frame. The background on the painting.  _

_ This was the same painting that Basil was working on when Dorian and Lord Henry met. _

_ But then Dorian and Wotton started pointing, silently shouting at Basil. Other Dorian, behind him, had gone quiet. _

_ “What?!” _

_ He turned around and the last thing he saw was Other Dorian holding the pair of scissors and swinging them towards his face. Then he felt hot, thick liquid running down the side of his face. An unimaginable pain coming from where his eye used to be. He screamed, covering his face with his hands. All he could taste was hot, metallic blood.  _

_ Basil stumbled back, running into a table and heard things scatter and fall to the ground. _

_ Other Dorian raised the bloody scissors over Basil, ready to tear out the other eye, when Basil, grasping wildly at the air around him, grabbed what felt like a needle from the table, and ripped one of Other Dorian’s buttons from his face before running out the door. _

The floor beneath him felt unsteady and his legs began to shake as he blindly ran down the stairs, trying to find his way back to the mirror. Back to the trapdoor that will free him. Back to his own flat. Then he ran into a wall. And a door. Then he tripped over a floorboard and stumbled blindly outside. He could hear Other Dorian’s screams from the attic. The threats, the horrors, the pain Other Dorian will inflict upon Basil once he catches him. __

Basil had to keep running. Away from Other Dorian. To get further into the garden. Yet, he couldn’t see where he was going, which direction he was running in. All he knew is that if he could hide, maybe he would be safe from Other Dorian. He thought he saw the bridge, the one that went over the small pond that his real garden definitely did  _ not _ have. He ran towards the bridge, the pain overwhelming him and causing him to lose his balance. 

And then he fell. Off the bridge. Into the pond beneath him. Basil heard a splashing sound before it all went dark.


End file.
